Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

Startled, the boy obeyed and dropped into a crouch. This had the effect of pulling the boy’s rifle off-target, away from him and Davila?—

“Davila! Down, get down!” John didn’t look to see if his partner obeyed because he was already moving, snapping both hands at once, zipping rocks the size of baseballs in crossbody fast balls: one at Matvey’s owner and the other at the young guy on Parviz’s left.

The rock from his left hand caught the younger guy a knockout blow, square in the nose, and so hard the crunch was audible, a brittle sound like eggshells underfoot. Any harder, and he might have drilled the guy a third eye. Blood gushed in a huge spume as the guy dropped his rifle, staggered back a single step before his knees folded and he went done, out cold.

Matvey’s owner wasn’t quite so lucky, both because he was tall, and his head was turned. One second, he was rearing back to hit the kid and the next there was a loud crack as the rock slammed into the man’s skull. The big guy let out a loud hunh as a jump of blood spurted from his left ear. He pitched forward, already unconscious, to slam face-down onto the road.

By then, John was already moving. Launching himself at the boy, he ducked under the kid’s rifle, grabbed the barrel with his left hand, and pushed up just as there was a sudden bang .

The sound was monstrous, but he didn’t release the rifle because he couldn’t be sure about the boy, that the discharge had been an accident, something done because the boy was startled. As the old song went, it was worthing remembering that a smile was just a smile. So, he held on as the barrel shuddered under his palm, grateful that the rifle wasn’t on full auto, then wrenched the weapon from the boy’s hands.

At the same moment, a part of his brain registered that Davila wasn’t there... where is he, what happened, did he... but then, ears still ringing, he was pivoting right, arms cocked, hands wrapped around the rifle’s barrel, ready to smash that ball right out of the park?—

And found himself staring at the wrong end of a Glock.

“Don’t,” Parviz said.